Terms and Conditions
by danceonthebrink
Summary: Why'd he even agree to those stupid terms and conditions in the first place? An open relationship had been a terrible idea. Damn Arthur and his persuasive skills... Human au. Established FRUKUS.


**Terms and Conditions**

 **Rated for slight depressing thoughts, yaoi, swearing, polyamory, some sexual content, and references to sex.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

* * *

"We need to negotiate the proper terms and conditions of this relationship!" Arthur said one day, slamming his hands down on the table, making the other two occupants jump.

"The fuck? Dude, you made me spill my coffee." Alfred said mournfully. Francis rubbed his temples and mumbled something about it being much too early for the brit's nonsense. Alfred took a moment to appreciate the Frenchman's morning voice. His accent always seemed to get thicker… Mm..

"I'm serious, you two. We can't keep this up!"

"Keep what up?" Alfred questioned, downing the last of his coffee. Only a few drops were left, that British bastard.

"Exactly! We don't even have a name for it. We all have the day off, let's get this sorted out." Arthur decided, folding his newspaper in half.

"I don't know about _you_ ," Francis said meaningfully. "But I actually had plans for today, with Antonio and Gilbert."

"Yeah! Me too!"

Francis decided that moment was a good idea to point out, "You don't even have any friends."

"Nu-uh! I've got… plenty! Like, erm- Kiku!"

"I don't care about your bloody friends! We need to talk." Both of the other blonds winced at that. Whenever Arthur said that, it never meant good.

"What do you even want to talk about? Because, truthfully, I'm not sure what the hell you're even on about." Francis said bluntly.

"Our dating situation."

Alfred grinned. "Yeah, what about it? I'm pretty darn happy with it, personally."

"I suppose we could probably discuss the conditions…" The long haired man mused.

"What? Franny, my man, I thought we were against this together, dude."

Francis shrugged haughtily. "What? We do need to get the details smoothed over. I mean, right now it's all over the place. All I really know is that I'm dating both of you who also happen to be dating each other, but we are all seeing other people at the same time who are unaware. As much as I hate to admit, that doesn't sound like _l'amour_."

"Are you sure you got enough exposition in that paragraph, frog?" Arthur said.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean you're dating other people?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Well, this is why we need to get it organised, don't you think?" Francis said pointedly.

"Ah.. That's a good idea." Alfred truthfully was not happy at all at finding out that his significant others were seeing other people without telling him. "Okay, Artie, you go!"

"Arthur. My names is _Arthur_ , you git. Alright. Firstly, we need to lay down the rules about seeing other people. Alfred, what do you think about it?"

"I think… No."

"Alright. Francis?"

"Well.. I have a friend… Actually, one could say that we're more than friends," Francis said, waggling his eyebrows. Arthur scoffed.

"And he would probably get lonely, if I were to be in full time relationship," he continued. "So I would like to invite him into this- well, whatever the hell _this_ is."

Alfred felt sick. If this… This, person, were to join in, it would shatter the perfect bond they had. At least, the perfect bond Alfred thought they had. Was Francis unhappy?

"We're _not_ bringing more people in this relationship! Goodness knows you two are already too much to put up with."

' _Yeah! You tell 'im, Artie_!' Alfred mentally cheered. ' _Wait.. Was that an insult_?'

"But, Arthur, _amourex_. I've never been in a steady relationship for over a month before! How do you expect me to sleep with only two people?"

"I was getting to that, Francis. I would like to propose an open relationship."

"Open relationship?" Alfred wondered out loud.

"Yes, Alfred." Arthur rolled his eyes at the boy. "You do know what that is, right?" At the lack of answer, he sighed loudly, then said, "To sum it up, we can still sleep with other people if we wish, but are still seeing each other."

Francis said, "I disagree." Alfred nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing with… Disagreeing, he supposed.

"Oh, shut it, you're only against it because it was my idea!" The Brit snapped. "Be serious for a moment, do you think we should go ahead with these terms or not?"

"…I suppose I could agree with you, just this once."

"Well, it's all well and done then."

"Ah, _oui_ , but what does Alfred think of it?"

Alfred was actually trying very hard not to burst out into tears. He didn't _want_ an open relationship, he didn't _want_ Arthur and Francis to see other people… he knew it was selfish, yes, but the thought of his boyfriends doing that made him unhappy. Was he not good enough for them? Why weren't they happy with what they had?

He loved them both, he loved them both so, so much. It broke his heart to think of them making love to anyone other than him and each other. _Together_ , he reminded himself. Together didn't mean open relationships. No, he couldn't allow that. But…

The American glanced at his lover's faces. A mixture of hopefulness, worry, and impatience, (as well as some irritability on Arthur's side) were written clearly on both of their faces, he didn't need to be able to 'read the atmosphere' to know that. He already knew he wouldn't be able to say no. He never could, especially not to them.

So he braved a smile, but the muscles were tight and his usual grin felt wrong on his face. "Sure, I reckon that sounds like a great idea! I'd probably get sick of you two after a while, haha!" His tone was cheerful, but there was definitely a few cracks in his voice here and there, so he smiled a little wider then rushed off.

Alfred went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. The blue-eyed teen glanced into the mirror and cursed, quickly wiping away tears. No point in getting so emotional over something so simple, he tried to reason with himself, failing miserably.

Huffing, he hurriedly brushed his teeth and combed his hair. Maybe if he took the other two on a date, they would forget about the whole 'open relationship' thing. Yeah. That might work.

* * *

It didn't.

* * *

"Francis. Francis, don't go, please, don't go." Alfred begged. The man shrugged him off, giving his reflection a once over for the fiftieth time.

"I apologise, _mon cher._ Matthieu is expecting me."

"But I'll be lonely, and Arthur is working really late, can't we just spend some time together, the two of us?" He said hopefully. Something twisted painfully in his chest when the Frenchman sneered.

"Really, Alfred, you've being so clingy lately. Can't you see that I don't wish to waste the night away watching some stupid movie or witness you eating yourself to death? I have better things to do, you know that."

"But… Don't you love me?" He whispered.

Francis sighed, and patted his partner on the head. "I do, _ange_ , you know I do. You're just more bearable when Arthur is here. I really need to go now, but I'll see you later." Alfred was granted a simple kiss to the cheek, then he was alone.

* * *

"I'm not in the mood. Fuck off." Arthur snapped, brushing off the Frenchman's advances.

"Alright then. I guess I'm off to club." Francis winked, before swiftly making his exit.

'He didn't even ask me,' Alfred realised with a pang. He would have agreed straight away.

* * *

"Hey, Arthur, what do you think of me?"

"I think you're a lazy, loud, childish, overweight nuisance, most of the time."

"Okay."

* * *

When Alfred got back one day after a long, hard day of classes he expected to be greeted tiredly, with maybe a chaste peck to the lips before being dragged into bed to be thoroughly fucked.

Instead, he was greeted with moans and desperate cries of passion. When he peeked into the bedroom, he expected his lovers to be there, panting and ready, apologising profusely for getting carried away without him, then getting to work on him immediately.

He wasn't sure to be mad at Francis for getting on with a stranger on his side of the bed, or Arthur who grinned crudely at the noises when he came home, or both of them for not bothering to remember it was Valentine's Day.

* * *

"Why don't we spend any time together, anymore?"

"I'm just busy, poppet, you know that." Arthur sighed.

"There's things I need to get done, _ma chéri_. I'm working very hard, for our future, okay?" Francis stated.

"I promise I'll make some time on the weekend." Arthur fibbed.

"We'll go away, soon, all three of us." Francis lied.

* * *

Alfred woke up alone. When he realised this after awkwardly fumbling around the mattress for a while, he nearly had a stroke. He needed somebody to cuddle! Determinedly, he got up and started searching the apartment. They better be making him a hell of a breakfast to miss out on cuddle time.

It had been a little over three months since they had 'agreed' to an open relationship. They barely ever had sex, and if they did, it was always rushed and painful. He couldn't even remember the last time they had all went in a date, or even the last time they had spent time together just enjoying each other's company. Their schedules made it near impossible.

Francis worked all through the week, Arthur had various part-time jobs that made him work all sorts of whack hours and the youngest had classes. Balancing all that along with the eldest's fooling around, and he never saw them. The most they communicated was with sticky notes on the fridge.

However, that never stopped them from all sleeping in the same bed. Francis would sometimes stumble in at 1am smelling of sex and booze, and Arthur would follow soon after, mumbling something about how much he hated his bosses, then they'd all collapse into bed and sleep their worries away.

If he hadn't heard them come in, he'd always wake up to the sound of the alarm going off, or to muted shuffling around the room, or to one or sometimes two pairs wrapping around him before bidding him a sweet goodbye.

He'd never woken to a silent, empty flat. They hadn't even bothered to leave a note.

'But they always come back,' he thought desperately. 'They always, always come back.' He just about tore their small home apart looking for them. Although, the term 'their' was used very loosely.

Grabbing his phone, he entered his contact list, then took a small moment to ponder at the lack of names. He really needed to get out more, make some friends. Arthur and Francis's names were right next to each other- nothing else between A and F- but he wasn't sure who to call.

Arthur was working right now, and he always had his phone off, except during break. Francis was probably in bed with some slut, he thought with a grimace. Wait no, what was he thinking? He loved Francis, he couldn't think bad things about him! He would be at work, as well. (He was a chef.)

Unfortunately, thinking about Francis's job just made him think of how long it had been since he had home cooked a meal for them, and now he was hungry.

He made a group chat, then sent; _hey you guys! didn't see you this morning, did you leave early?_

Three hours later, he got a reply.

 **Artie:** _I fell asleep on the job last night. Never got to go home._

And another three hours later.

 **Franny:** _Ah, that was what I was forgetting! Spent the night at Mathieu's. I'll probably be able to get off early, though._

 **Artie:** _Actually, now that you mention it, I'll probably take my leave early as well. Be back around midnoon._

And that was it. No apologies, no phone calls, and no I love you's. Francis even had the nerve to say that he _forgot_. Alfred blinked back tears, reminded himself that they _did_ love him, they just had a funny way of showing it, and they weren't just making up excuses.

He pushed away the any thoughts telling him otherwise. Instead, he cried a little, ate himself sick and tried to forget about the knives Francis kept in the kitchen.

Wait a minute… What the hell was he doing getting so worked up over something so trivial? Christ, he was a grown man! (Nearly.) He could hardly believe himself. He wasn't sad, not at all. No, he was angry. Angry at being left alone. Angry at his partners for neglecting him in favour of other people.

Well, that was mostly Francis. He understood that Arthur was working very hard for his sake, or at least so it seemed. Was he sneaking around with other people, too? Under the pretence of working?

No, he was getting ahead of himself. No use making false assumptions. And besides, it was his fault, wasn't it? He hadn't spoken up when Arthur proposed the idea of an open relationship. (Granted, knowing Francis, he'd still sneak around with other people anyway.)

Why'd he even agree to those stupid terms and conditions in the first place? An open relationship was a terrible idea. Damn Arthur and his persuasive skills... That's what he got for encouraging Arthur to choose English Literature as his major. Darn, it all _Alfred's_ fault.

But he was still angry. Extremely angry. So he did the only thing that made sense at the time. He got up, rolled down his sleeves, balled his hands onto fists, and punched the wall. No, that probably wasn't the right word for it. He _pounded_ it.

Fists flew, the ceiling shook, bits of flaky plaster were falling around him like snow, while small cracks formed where the battered wall was taking the hardest hits. Arthur was going to strangle him when he got home, for sure. At least he'd be touching him, for once.

Admittedly, it probably wasn't one of his best ideas. He realised this when he struck something wrong. His right index and middle finger made a sickening _crack_ , and white hot pain shot through his arm. Alfred made let loose a high pitched shriek, cradling his injured hand.

Shit, shit, shit, _mother fucking shit of all things holy,_ that hurt like a bitch. Sucking in a deep breath, he held his arm up for inspection, and winced straight away.

Last time he checked, his fingers were not supposed to twist that way.

The American tried to wiggle them, just a bit, to see if they were broken. Fuck, he could see stars. There was definitely something wrong.

"Jeez, this is what you get for attacking walls." He sighed to himself. Speaking of walls- he raised a teary eye (those are totally manly tears you guys) to said wall.

…Well, at least his digits weren't the only mangled thing in the house. He'd done some major damage. Alfred sighed again. Now what? He was sure he knew _something_ about dealing with broken bones. Wracking his brain for what little medical knowledge he had, he settled for wrapping a paper towel over an ice pack, then placed it on his hand.

Now that was sorted, he needed to figure out what to do about that wall. Glancing around, Alfred grabbed some duct tape and covered it. Good as new. The guys wouldn't even be able to tell the difference.

Now for some nice, hard earned rest…

* * *

Alfred woke to the smell of smoke and muffled voices. Smiling, he hopped out of bed and just about skipped to kitchen. He peeked around the corner and spied his foreign sweethearts bickering over something, no doubt tedious.

He managed to catch;

"the 'breakfast' you seemed adamant on serving our dear Alfred. It's not even morning, _mon ami_. Why-"

"Mornin'." He crooned, then scooped them both into a messy group hug. Francis gleefully returned it, while Arthur immediately removed himself from Alfred's clutches.

"It's four in the afternoon." Francis corrected.

"You," Arthur glared.

Alfred tilted his head to the side. "Me?"

"Yes, _you_. Would you care to explain what _that_ is?" Arthur pointed. Alfred's eyes followed the brit's extended finger to his duct taped masterpiece. Oh, right. He'd forgotten about that. He was suddenly more aware of his throbbing hand.

Flinching, he used his left to rub at the aching joints.

"I've no clue." Alfred lied.

"I see. And what happened to your hand?"

"Well, you see…" The blue eyed blond paused. "I actually have a good reason for that."

"Mm-hm?"

"Yup!"

"And what is that reason?"

"Arthur, Arthur!" Francis intervened. "Can't you see that the boy's in pain? At least tend to him before you start your bitching." Arthur growled menacingly.

"Besides, I'm sure whatever happened, it was an accident. You know how accident prone Alfred can be." The Frenchman smiled affectionately.

"Actually, I punched the wall." Alfred piped up. Francis sighed exasperatedly, running his fingers through his hair.

" _Merde_ , this is why we can't have nice things."

"I also think I may have broken my hand."

"That's what you get for punching walls." Arthur lightly scolded. Funny, Alfred had said the same thing.

"Now, let me see if there's something else wrong with you," Arthur continued.

"What _isn't_ wrong with him?" Francis joked, which earned him a slap from the green eyed man. Alfred didn't help by chuckling, but he quietened down when Francis begun playing with his hand. Arthur was looking at his elbows, searching for bruises that weren't there- not like Alfred would tell him that, however.

He couldn't believe it- here they were, after months of being tossed aside, paying attention to him, _caring_ for him. He should hurt himself more often! Actually… Nah. That sounded like a lot of work.

Alfred breathed in sharply- it'd been so long since he'd been handled so gently, and they were softly caressing his skin and one of them was running their fingers through his hair and oh god. He just hoped they wouldn't notice his pants tightening. It was embarrassing how easily he got aroused these days, they had barely touched him!

"You need a shower," mumbled Arthur.

"Ugh- whyy?" Alfred whined.

"Because you're dirty- and if you decide to bathe straight after this, we'll need to change your bandages straight away."

"…Fine then, I suppose." Alfred pouted. No use arguing against logic, he supposed.

"Great. Frog, take him there. I'll look around for a first aid kit."

He was promptly lead off to the bathroom.

"Hands up." Francis commanded, tugging on the bottom of his shirt. (Which really didn't help his 'problem', if you were wondering.)

"Uhh- it's fine, I-I can do it myself, kay?" Alfred stuttered, softly slapping the Frenchman's hands away.

"Don't fuss, _mon petit._ Your hand is hurt, _oui_? I'm your boyfriend, let me help you."

"It's fine. Thanks for, like, offering though. I can manage.

The long haired blond eyed him wearily. " _Très bien._ Just don't kill yourself."

"I'm not incompetent!"

"The only reason you even know what that word means is because of Ar-thur~"

"What's your point?"

The door clicked shut, and Alfred hurriedly locked it. A cold shower was what he needed!

"Oh, and Alfred? Make sure you turn the heat up, it'll help stop the bruising!"

Well darn.

After much struggling, he managed to slip his clothes off. Who knew you needed your hands so much while changing?

Alfred nudged the shower tap around with his elbow. He wasn't going to use his poor, torn up hands on that metal contraption. Adjusting it to the right temperature was another story- Every time he'd found just the right one, his elbow would slip and the whole process would have to be restarted. Eventually he gave up and left it on a slightly-warmer-than-he-would-have-preferred temperature.

He didn't bother trying to wash his hair. Instead, he squirted a large amount of strawberry flavoured body wash into his hand (don't judge, that stuff smelt _great_ ) and messily scrubbed along his body.

Maybe he should have let Francis help him bathe. Mmm, he'd love to get Francis in the shower with him… Alfred would definitely let him wash his hair, his was great.

Crap, his hard-on was back in full force. He frowned unhappily at it. What to dooo?

He reached down and wrapped his non broken hand around it. No, that just irritated his cuts. And him. Alfred was quite irritated. How was he supposed to jerk it with both hands out of order?

Fortunately, Alfred was clever enough to think around the problem. He didn't necessarily _need_ his fingers to touch himself. Granted, they probably were a huge factor in pleasure, but all he really needed was something to grind on.

After much deliberation, Alfred balled his hand into a fist (but he wasn't going to punch anything this time) and made to rub it across his length.

Then there was a loud knocking at the door. Alfred groaned.

"Are you done in there, love?" A distinctly British sounding voice said.

'No,' Alfred mouthed, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Get on with it, won't you. I'd like to take a good look at your fingers. We need to deduce whether or not you need medical attention."

' _I'd like to take a good look at your fingers_ ,' Alfred thought. ' _And stick them up_ -'

"We'll be waiting in the bedroom."

That was all he needed to hear.

* * *

Indeed, they were waiting on the bed, but they were not nearly as undressed as Alfred had been hoping for. Arthur was holding a first aid kit. Oh right…

"Here, let's get you changed." Francis swiftly relieved Alfred of his towel- and swiftly graced the world with Alfred's very prominent boner at the same time.

Arthur smirked. "Got a little problem there, poppet?" He crooned. Alfred shifted awkwardly, and hid it behind his hands.

"It-it's not like… My fingers, I couldn't take care of it- don't laugh!" Alfred glared at both of them. "You both suck." He declared.

The older two exchanged lewd looks.

"Yes, we do." Francis admitted.

Arthur's smirked deepened. "Would you like us to demonstrate?"

Alfred turned a vibrant shade of red. "Don't joke around. I thought you were going to patch me up?"

Arthur shrugged. "Well, if you insist."

Francis tenderly took Alfred's hand in his, making Alfred turn even redder. Arthur gestured to the bed, and they all sat down, with Francis on Alfred's right, and Arthur on his left.

The Brit leant over to inspect the bruised digits, cradling each one with care as he looked them over. He made little noises of reassurance whenever Alfred whined or winced, and it bothered the American to no end.

Just as the teen was starting to get bored of the inspection, Arthur pulled away, like he had sensed the mood or something. (Was that 'reading the atmosphere?')

"They don't seem to be broken," he hummed. Alfred heaved a sigh of relief. "But they are rather badly sprained. I'll bind them together, and Francis can make a doctors appointment for tomorrow, alright?"

"Why do I have to do it?" Francis cried. Arthur scowled.

"Don't complain, frog."

The Frenchman sulked for a bit, but eventually gave in and went to get his phone. All three of them hated making 'professional' calls, and usually straws would be drawn. Alfred lost, most of the time. (They were cheaters, he swore.)

"I'll get you into some other clothes." Arthur took a look at his still half hard cock. "Would you like me to take care of that?"

"Yes, please." Alfred breathed.

Almost instantaneously, an icy hand was wrapped around his length. Alfred squirmed in discomfort.

"Jesus Christ, why are your hands so cold?"

"Don't complain," his boyfriend said airily. "I've got control over your vital regions at the moment." As if to emphasise his point, Arthur gave 'little Alfred' a sharp tug, delighting in the cry he elicited. Arthur hadn't even bothered with foreplay, and yet Alfred was essentially putty in his hands.

"Y-yeah, but can't you like… At least suck on them or something!"

"Oh? You want me to suck?" All of sudden, warm heat enveloped Alfred's length. The blond moaned, bucking his hips, but Arthur's hands were already holding them in place. Alfred momentarily forget about his wounded hand, and tried to tangle his fingers in the brit's messy hair.

Groaning, he realised there wasn't much he could do to get Arthur to suck. ' _Sex without full use of all of your limbs sucks_ ,' he thought morosely.

Speaking of sucking, Arthur had finally begun Alfred's second favourite part of blowjobs. The blue eyed teen hummed happily at the sensation. It didn't take long to get the American to release (that was his _first_ favourite part), then Arthur quickly changed him into a superman t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Leaning back, Alfred sighed happily. Boy, was he being treated well tonight. Arthur had just scooted next to him right as Francis entered the room.

"I made you a coffee, _chére_." Alfred's face lit up.

"Whoa! Thanks, dude!" He greedily took the mug, inhaling the warm, rich aroma.

" _Pas de probléme._ " Francis gracefully set himself down on the bed. "After all, we are here to take care of you." Arthur let a small smile cross his features (a rare sight), and both of his lovers took a moment to marvel at the sight.

"Well," said Arthur, stretching. "What should we do now?"

"I was thinking perhaps a movie?" Francis said thoughtfully. "We really haven't spent much time together."

"Yeah, 'cause you've been too busy with _Matthew_ , right?" Alfred said, sounding bitter without meaning too.

A look crossed Francis's face. "Ah, _cher_ … Are you jealous?"

Alfred scowled. "Wha- I! No."

"Ah, do not be ashamed, _ange_. If are still worried, I suppose I should let you know that Mattheui is dating Gilbert now."

"Huh? But didn't you two… Have sex? Isn't what Gilbert is doing against the bro code?"

Arthur scoffed. "Please. If Francis's friends weren't allowed to date anyone he'd slept with, there'd be very slim pickings."

"Exactly, Arthur. Can a friend not have sex with friends?"

"Didn't think so." Alfred sniffed.

"Ah, but we did agree on an open relationship, did we not?"

"Doesn't mean I like it." Alfred admitted.

Arthur furrowed his brow. "But you _did_ agree."

Alfred pulled the covers up to his chin. "Mmm… Doesn't mean I like it."

"Alfred! Why didn't you say so, you insolent git."

"Uh… B-because Francis would sleep around anyway, and you'd call me ungrateful! Or something…" He trailed off, and settled for nibbling on the sheets.

" _Amourex_... Do you truly think so lowly of me?" They were both giving him sad, pitying looks, and he hated it.

"Sorry Francis." Alfred said guiltily.

"Alfred," Arthur lifted up Alfred's chin, giving him a firm stare. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that the key to a good relationship is _communication_?"

Alfred refused to make eye contact. "No. I thought it was trust, actually."

"That too. And I'm telling you right now; you can't expect us to be able to know what you want without you actually telling us, alright? You need to speak up. And yes, I may criticise you, but don't you dare ever make such a prejudiced assumption about Francis ever again, do you hear me? He may fool around, but to the best of my knowledge, he has always faithful, despite his short relationships. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Arthur." Alfred said, feeling terrible. Arthur's lectures always had that effect.

"Good. Whatever made you think of such a thing in the first place?"

"Well… Francis is good." He buried his face in the duvet to hide his pink cheeks. "Like, really good. I just assumed he got a lot of practise…"

The Frenchman laughed his Frenchy laugh. "Well, you're not wrong. How about I show you just how good I am, hmm?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "I think I like the sound of that."

Francis smiled wickedly, already climbing on top of Alfred. He crawled up the whole way, then planted a quick peck on Alfred's mouth. Alfred giggled as Francis begun to suck on his neck, his beardy stubble tickling the tender skin.

Arthur disappeared under the covers, and Francis shuffled down so he was straddling Alfred. Francis teasingly traced the symbol on his shirt, and just as Alfred was beginning to wonder where Arthur was, the sheets were pulled over both him and Francis.

Arthur slid next to the two, then grinned toothily. "Right, so how are we doing this?"

"I feel like riding someone tonight." Francis ground his hips against Alfred's to emphasise his point.

"I am so there." Alfred agreed. "How's about you, Artie?"

"I think I'll have you from behind." Arthur mused.

"You two are _doing it wrong_. You're not supposed to talk about it! You need foreplay, and then you work it out from there. Talking is unsexy." Francis said. "At least, unsexy talking is unsexy."

"Yes, and after this, you'll be working on your English with me." Arthur said. Francis made a face.

Alfred nodded. "Yup, and since I hurt my hands, it's up to you guys to get me all riled up. Go!"

After they had all collapsed onto the newly stained mattress and exchanged breathless kisses, Alfred pulled the two into his arms. Arthur didn't protest for once, instead settled for nuzzling against Alfred's side. He didn't even complain about the fat there.

Francis also gladly snuggled in, being careful to avoid Alfred's injuries as he made himself comfortable. The Frenchman linked his left hand in Arthur's right, and all was right in the world.

Alfred was exceptionally happy when Arthur didn't insist on putting on clothes.

And, oh yeah, they were definitely re-negotiating the terms and conditions of their relationship in the morning.

* * *

 **And there you have it. Can you tell that my mood totally changed around the second half? Sorry about all the French, by the way. I got a little carried away with the pet names :P Do tell me if something went wrong with the translation… I'm ashamed to say I used google translate.**

 ** _L'amour_** **\- love**

 ** _Oui_** **\- yes**

 ** _Mon cher_** **\- my dear**

 ** _Amourex_** **\- sweetheart**

 ** _Ma chéri-_** **my dear (men only)**

 ** _Mon ami-_** **my love**

 ** _Merde_** **\- typically a swear word**

 ** _Ma petit-_** **my little one**

 ** _Très bien-_** **fine**

 ** _Pas de probléme_** **\- no problem**

 ** _Chère/cher_** **\- darling**

 ** _Non_** **\- no**

 ** _Ange_** **\- angel**


End file.
